


Just Another Day

by babybrotherdean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brother Feels, Fluff, Gen, Sam's Birthday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 05:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10802688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babybrotherdean/pseuds/babybrotherdean
Summary: It's Sam's birthday, and he doesn't expect a whole lot. Dean manages to surprise him.





	Just Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> *busts down the door* I'M NOT LATE
> 
> Happy birthday to Sam!! <3

The Winchesters have never been big on celebrating birthdays.

It’s not that they always go completely unacknowledged. Sometimes Dean’ll wake Sam up with a nice breakfast and a fancy coffee, and he’ll hum “happy birthday” in the car enough times to drive them both crazy, and if they’re really lucky, they might happen to coincide with a day off to kick back and relax. Not that it’s been that way as of late; Dean spent his last birthday behind bars in a concrete cell, and Sam still feels bad about not being able to make it any more bearable for him, not that he’d been in any position to do so at the time.

So it’s a long-standing history of tiny celebrations when they can get away with it, or birthdays that slip into the background altogether after the job sucks them in too deep. Every extra year should be special in this line of work- every day they’re still breathing is a damn miracle- but newly thirty-four, Sam knows better than to expect very much.

It’s not a particularly bad day, all things considered. They’re working, because it’s easier to hunt than it is to try tackling the disaster that everything else has become, and they’re cruising their way through a textbook ghoul case. They kill the thing early on the morning of May 2nd, and Sam’s birthday is the last thing on his mind while he watches Dean throw the thing to the ground just in time for Sam to pull the trigger and end the fight. The clean-up is messy, because it always is, and the sun rises on the fire that they build to deal with the remains.

“You wanna crash?” Dean asks him when they climb back into the car, the both of them in desperate need of a shower but thankfully showing few injuries. “It’s gonna be a couple hours on the road, so you might as well rest up.”

Sam wants to protest just on the principle that he’d be happy to keep Dean company- now more than ever, as it seems more and more like they don’t have anyone to rely on but each other- but his heavy eyelids answer for him, and he’s out before they reach the town limits.

He doesn’t stir until they’re coming to a stop in the bunker’s garage, and even then, Dean doesn’t waste any time in ushering him inside, telling him to wash the grime out of his hair, and Sam can only nod, letting Dean steer him around because maybe it makes him feel a little better, among everything else going on. Caretaking has always seemed like Dean’s safe space, and the last thing Sam wants to do is deny it to him now.

His phone tells him “happy birthday” before he climbs into the shower, and there’s a text message from his mother asking if he’s free to talk later today. It makes him smile, and the hot water works wonders on his body once he settles underneath the spray. There’s a bit of a gash on his arm that stings, but it fades rather quickly, and as far as birthdays go, he’s certainly had worse.

When he finds Dean in the kitchen twenty minutes later and his brother is waiting, showered and dressed comfy and smiling in a way that’s a little bit uncertain but mostly excited, Sam is only slightly suspicious.

“Sit,” Dean tells him, and Sam does what he’s told without looking away. There’s a first aid kit on the table, and Dean sits beside him, taking Sam’s hurt arm real gentle and starting to clean up the wound, carefully wiping away little dots of fresh blood that have beaded up since leaving the shower. “So, uh- big day today, huh?”

Sam watches his brother curiously, holding still while Dean patches him up- revelling in the little touches and the feeling of Dean’s fingertips on his skin, because even after decades of doing this, it’s still always comforting- and he isn’t sure what to say. “You… you mean the hunt?”

That earns him a sigh that’s dramatic enough for one of Dean’s soap operas, and Dean gives him an exasperated look. “Yeah, the hunt. That’s what I’m talking about.” He tapes a piece of gauze down over the wound before nudging Sam’s foot with his own, smiling again. “I mean your birthday, stupid. You’re thirty-four. Already going grey, huh?”

Sam’s surprised by the reminder, and then immediately feels bad for it. He knows Dean’s never forgotten about his birthday- he knows his brother too well to think something like that- but he never expects it to be brought up. Certainly not with everything else going on, between Cas and Lucifer and the British Men of Letters. Their lives have never been messier than they are right now, and among the chaos, something so insignificant as the day he was born just seems… arbitrary.

“Uh,” he replies intelligently, then “yeah, I guess so.” Takes a moment to actually register what Dean’s said and pulls a face. “You’re the old man here. How many years ‘til you’re forty, Dean, huh?”

“Shut up.” Dean huffs and flicks his arm, then finishes up wrapping the wound and pats him on the leg. “Anyways, I’m glad we finished up today, 'cause I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

“Surprise?”

Sam can only watch as his brother stands again, winking before he turns to head over to the fridge. It takes a moment of watching Dean’s back as he shuffles things around inside, but then Dean’s making a little “ah-ha” sound and gathering something into his arms before he turns and shuts the door again with his hip, and it’s…

“That’s a box.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Sam, I got you a box for your birthday.” He returns to the table, then very carefully opens it up. Sam’s eyes go wide when he sees what’s inside. “I, uh… I know it’s been a while since we’ve gotten to do this kinda thing, but there’s this real nice bakery in town, and- and you always try to eat healthy and stuff, and they let me try a sample and it was actually pretty great, so…”

It’s a birthday cake. It’s a birthday cake that’s iced white with _“Happy 34th Birthday, Sammy!”_ written in neat cursive over its surface. In each corner, there’s a little design- four different dogs in a silly, cartoony style with their tongues hanging out and smiling up at him, and Sam feels a whole lot like he’s going to cry.

Dean clears his throat after a few seconds of silence, and then he’s talking again, making Sam hyper-aware of the fact that he’s yet to react. “Um- it’s carrot cake. It’s dairy-free, I guess, or that’s what they told me, anyway, 'cause it’s better for you? I don’t know. And- and the dogs were just one of the little designs they had, for kids, I think, and you should’ve seen the looks on their faces when I told them you were turning thirty-four-”

Sam cuts off what he recognizes as Dean’s anxiety flaring up in the form of word vomit by reaching out and catching his brother’s wrist in his hand, not giving Dean a chance to ask what he’s doing before pulling him in for a bone-crushing hug. Dean’s stiff for a couple seconds before relaxing into it, and then he’s hugging Sam back just as tight, relief seeping out of every pore.

“It’s perfect, Dean,” Sam tells him, and his voice is a little thick as he tries not to let his emotions get the better of him. “Next year, I want a real dog.”

Dean breathes out a laugh and his forehead presses into Sam’s shoulders. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles. “We’ll see.” A short pause, and quieter, he continues. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”

Sam smiles and closes his eyes to soak it all in for a moment before they break apart and Dean gets a knife for him to cut the cake. They eat half of the thing for breakfast, and it’s as delicious as Dean promised, and for the first time in months, everything feels kind of okay, at least for a few hours. For now, those few hours of something good and safe is more than enough to get him through the rest of the week.

The way Dean beams at him over their sugary feast doesn’t hurt, either.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! <3


End file.
